Sadist
by FeltonObessions
Summary: Ginevra Weasley is Tom Riddle's pet and Draco's plaything. What does The Dark Lord want from her? GWDM GWVOLDEMORT. A dark fiction, not recommended for the easily offended. Contains anorexia, cutting, killing, and other such things.


Most people in the wizarding world recognize the Weasley family as blood traitors without enough money to support themselves properly. An accurate description, perhaps, for Molly and Arthur Weasley and their sons, though the same could not be said about Ginerva, or Ginny, as they liked to call her.

Growing up in the shadow of those around you can change a person, and Ginny Weasley was the perfect example of that. She, unlike her family, had grown to be quite the little pureblood elitist. Blood traitors, mudbloods and the like disgusted her, so she tried to spend the least amount of time with her family as possible.

Perhaps that was why Tom had stumbled upon her in her first year, perhaps that was why he was back again. Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, was quite possibly the only person that she truly loved.

To think, before starting school, she'd had some pathetic puppy-dog crush on _Harry Potter_. The mere thought disgusted her. He was a half-blood, the sworn enemy of her lover, _her Tom_. That had all changed in her first year, though, _everything_ had changed in her first year. She was no longer the sweet, non-discriminatory, innocent little Ginny Weasley. Perhaps Tom had something to do with that.

Ginerva, who'd grown into a beautiful fifth year by then, walked swiftly through the corridors, headed towards the Slytherin common room, where she knew that Draco Malfoy would be waiting for her.

The relationship between Ginny and Draco was an odd one, that was for certain. He was with her for two reasons, to have sex with her and because she was so close to Voldemort, whom he admired greatly, and she was with him for only one reason, Tom.

Ginny would do anything that Voldemort asked of her, she couldn't say no to him, so when he'd asked her to form a relationship with Draco Malfoy, she'd obliged. She had absolutely no idea why Voldemort wanted she and Draco together, as he himself was quite close to her, but she had always thought it best not to ask questions.

Most people hated her Tom, she knew that, but most people didn't know him like she did. Whatever there was of that nearly non-existent heart of his, it surely belonged to her, and all that there was of her heart, cold and broken as it may have been, belonged to him.

Ginerva had always been angry at that damnable Potter for destroying Tom's diary, which was, at the time, the only way that she had of communicating with her. Before long, though, another similar book was made, allowing her to talk to her love whenever she wanted to. As if that wasn't enough, she was often summoned to Malfoy Manor, where Tom was staying at the time, on the weekends. She was able to sneak out of Hogwarts and apparate there, where she'd spend evenings with him. When she was at Hogwarts, though, Draco Malfoy had to do.

It was quite obvious that she was the only one who Voldemort truly cared for at all. His Death Eaters were close to him, sure, and he liked them more than most people, but he didn't really care what happened to them. He cared about her though, Ginny assured herself of that each day, it made everything worth while.

While nobody knew this, perhaps, Ginerva Weasley was truly broken inside. Ginny was gone, she was Ginerva now, but unfortunately both girls had been broken, ruined inside. She used to be a friendly, caring and generous person… not any more. She was cold, arrogant, snide, but she didn't care, she didn't feel emotions like most people did.

It had been four years since she'd been on good terms with the Golden Trio, or any of her family, for that matter, but it wasn't important to her. Why would she want to be in the company of a mudblood, a blood traitor, who, unfortunately, happened to be her brother, and a half-blood moron with a lightning bolt scar? She wouldn't.

As she waited in the hallway for Draco, her half-lover, she looked down at herself. Her dark red hair fell straight in layers down to her shoulders. She'd grown to be quite tall, about 5'7", so her legs were long, something she usually didn't pay any attention to. As her white button up shirt was rather tight, it was no trouble to see her ribs protruding above the indent of her stomach… she'd always had a good body, been a good size, but then the anorexia had started, leaving her shapeless and too-thin.

Her forearms were dressed with scars, something that she'd done herself. Something that she'd picked up from Tom was the feeling that pleasure and pain were barely distinguishable from each other, both were indulgences, both were equally as thrilling, equally as satisfactory. A combination of the two? Well that was pure bliss.

Ginerva took a moment to remember the last time that she'd been in the bathroom with her razorblade, how Draco had walked in on her.

**-Flashback**-

_She was sitting on the bathroom door, her razorblade grasped firmly in her right hand. She looked down at her arm, the left one, and ran her eyes over the many scars that already marred her pale skin. There were no fresh cuts on her arm, but that wouldn't last for long._

_Taking one deep breath in, she brought the sharp blade down to her arm, dragging it horizontally across the top of her wrist. A small moan escaped her lips; it hurt so much, felt so good. She watched as the blood began dripping out of her arm, she'd cut it quite far up on her wrist, so it was sure to bleed nice and heavily._

_She was thoroughly disoriented from the loss of blood. She was holding the blade in hand, about to drag it across her skin once more when the door flung open, revealing the blonde haired Draco Malfoy. He looked down at her bloody arm and forced his eyes back up to hers, a small smile on his lips._

_And then they proceeded to have sex, the mixture of the pleasure from that and the pain in her arm was euphoric for her._

**-End Flashback-**

Finally she saw him, he was striding up the hall, his cold grey eyes glued to her. He was late, and she was sure that he knew this, but none-the-less, she called out. "You're late,".


End file.
